Suga Mama
by AzureEyedI
Summary: Follow up to Candy Land - One week later, Charlie and Sofia head out to fish, as they always do. But will this fishing excursion catch more than just fish, or will it end in tears?


**Ninapolitan's  
**

**D.I.L.F. Contest**

**Suga Mama  
**

**Azure Eyed I  
**

**Charlie/Other/Edward**

**Vamp**

**Stephanie Mayer owns everything Twilight. Except for this.**

**Beyonce Knowles, Chuck Middleton, Makiba and Rich Harrison own **_**Suga Mama**_

**Follow up to Candy Land, one week later.**

**Thx as always to Reagan for her beta skills and general hand holding. **

**##**

**Charlie POV **

She's usually so prompt; I hope she didn't have engine trouble or blown a tire; I would have heard about that on the scanner, what's taking her so long? Did she forget? She never misses a chance to fish, she loves that nearly as much as playing Cribbage and chasing Nessie around that huge backyard of theirs.

I already have the boat in the water, our rods and bait and my thermos of black coffee stashed away under the seats; even brought a thermos of blood for her, her favorite type, B+, got it from Carlisle; felt a bit odd asking him for it, didn't want to tell him why, but he handed the chilled bag over to me like it was nothing, just another simple request he handled every day at the hospital. Smiled as he did and asked how I was doing. As he walked me to the ER exit, he thanked me for keeping her company, said she was going through a rough patch, and he knew how much I meant to her.

But I have to wonder how much he knows about us; if he has the first clue that I'd like nothing more than to lay down next to his favorite daughter, to feel and knead her flesh under my fingers; wonder if she's as cold as the rest of them, or if those blue eyes of hers make her pale white skin warmer, more human. God knows my son-in-law's skin feels like a cold Rainbow Trout, fresh from the Quilleute River after the ice breaks; I hate shaking his hand, but I don't want to seem impolite, piss him off. She's told me what he's capable of, and God knows I don't need any more stress in my life; all that crap with Bella and him was enough. I really don't want to face his anger firsthand, especially after listening to those stories she's told me of what he's done over the years; what the both of them did when they lived in Berlin in the twenties, _fuck..._

Where the hell is she? Maybe I should call her, find out if she's all right. _Jesus,_ I feel like I'm sixteen and getting laid for the first time, I hope this isn't a huge mistake, what the fuck am I getting myself into?

#

_I'ma be like a jolly rancher that you get from the corner store __  
__I'ma be like a waffle cone that's dripping down to the floor __  
__The way you do if for me I can't lie __  
__About to be up in the mall all night __  
__Whatever I get you putting it on __  
__Don't give me no lip let mama do it all_

I could hear the music thumping from the speakers before the car came into view; she must be driving his Volvo, the sound system in there is something else. I remember hearing opera or some of that classical music he loves when he'd cruise over to the house when Bella lived there, before she turned her back on me, left me for him. That worked out just great didn't it? She ended up leaving _him_ for _Jake_, and what did I get? A grandkid I love more than I can say, even if she drinks milk _and_ blood from a sippy cup, and leaps fifteen feet in the air like it's nothing. _Jesus._..

But he's a good daddy to Ness, I gotta admit it, loves her to pieces. Can't figure out what the deal is between him and Kiddo though, they sure seem tight, but then again, who knows? What a world this has turned out to be.

_Let me be, I wants to be, gots to be __  
__Your suga give mama some suga mama __  
__Suga ma-ma-mama __  
__I'm your suga mama, suga mama _

_Let me be, I wants to be, gots to be __  
__New whip, new heavy on the wrist __  
__Cause I'm a suga ma-ma-mama __  
__I'm your suga mama, suga mama_

_Christ_, she's got that sound system cranked up to eleven; I bet that's driving him nuts, he just doesn't like that pop stuff, she told me so: "He's such an old-fashioned guy in so many ways, Charlie. Doesn't understand why I love Beyonce instead of Beethoven, like he does." Then laughed and moved her Parcheesi piece six places, taking out one of mine as she did. "He can be such an _old fart_ sometimes, but I still..." shaking her head, that blond ponytail of hers bobbing up and down, nearly reaches the small of her back; I'd love to grasp it, feel it's silky smoothness, it's heft in my hands as I take it out, watch her blond mane float around that _face_ of hers, so beautiful. She lets her thought drift off into the still kitchen air; it hangs there, teasing me.

_Fucking minx_. What an apt description. That's what he calls her sometimes; she told me so, last week in my kitchen, when she saw my thoughts, what I wanted to do to her, with her.

I'd so love to kiss her, feel her lips against mine while crushing her against my chest, gripping her in my arms. I bet she tastes so sweet, like Twizzlers and Cherry Coke and moist Red Velvet Cake.

Why him? Why not me?_ Why can't she be mine?_

#

_Hey, hey __  
__Sit on mama lap __  
__Hey, hey __  
__Come sit on mama lap __  
__Hey __  
__Come sit on mama lap __  
__Hey, hey __  
__Come sit on mama lap __  
__Hey_

There she is. _Finally_. Dust settles around the Volvo as she stomps on the brakes, the woofers and tweeters silenced when she turns off the ignition; told me it doesn't drive nearly as well as her Mercedes, "but what the hell, a cars a car, right, buddy?" Smiling as she throws the keys up into the air, the shiny silver metal catching the first rays of the emerging day as she does, snapping them into her slim fingers so effortlessly, so gracefully. Must have just zipped over here fresh from the shower, I can see the translucent beads of water still clinging to her blond locks. I know what she was up to before leaving him, leaving their house. She loves her showers, that one.

"Hiya, Charlie. Sorry I'm late, this damned Volvo drives like old people fuck." When she sees my eyes widen in surprise at her description of his cars handling abilities she gasps and brings her right hand up to her mouth, embarrassed. Sometimes she can be incredibly crude, but I don't mind, she had a tough time of it before she got involved with him, so I give her a pass. "Oh, _jeez,_ Charlie, that wasn't nice of me, I'm sorry; this mouth of mine, sometimes..." smiles and winks at me, as she opens the trunk, taking out a container of leeches and her tackle box; I have her rods and reels, wouldn't fit in the Volvo.

_Why him? Why not me? _

#

_It's so good to the point that I'd __  
__Do anything to keep you home __  
__Baby what you want me to buy __  
__My accountant's waiting on the phone __  
__Just the thought of making love to you __  
__Dropping everything that's what I'll do __  
__Whatever I get you putting it on __  
__Now take it off while I watch you perform_

An hour later, we're settled in our second fishing spot, under the pine trees casting into the structure, looking for the bass and pan fish that lurk there, hiding. I'm up two catches to her one; she always gives me hers, anyway. "It's not like any of us have a taste for _fish_, Charlie, though I used to love Walleye, especially fried up fresh from the lake."

She grew up fishing, back there in Wisconsin. So many years ago, I still have a hard time wrapping my head around it, not just _what_ she is but how _old _she is.

_God, I'd love to reach over, fist my hand in her hair and kiss her, just a quick peck, to get a taste of her lips, so pouty and luscious. _

_Would he know? _

"Yeah, Charlie, he would. And I'd have some _'splainin_ to do, Lucy."

Makes her voice sound like Ricky Ricardo. How much has she heard, my thoughts? She totally busted me last week in the kitchen, after we let Nessie beat us both at Go Fish; saw what I'd love to do with her, upstairs in my bed, the one with the worn, soft patchwork quilt on it.

The one she gave me; said she found it in Seattle, but I think it's _hers,_ lovingly hand sewn by her mother decades before I was even a glimmer in my daddy's eye; how long ago, I can't even imagine.

I can still pick up traces of her scent on it; she smells like honey and something else; like _sunshine_? Yeah, her scent is just like a warm summer day, the same as fresh cotton, hung outside on a clothesline, soaking up the rays and warmth and freshness of a fleeting summer day...

"Charlie."

_Jesus_, she's sitting right next to me, when did she do that? I didn't even feel the boat sway with her movements. And her skin, it's so _cold_; its bitterness sweeps over me, drenches me down to my skin, right through the worn and frayed green Carthardt barn coat.

Grip my rod tighter in my hands; the one in my jeans springs to life, this isn't right, she's _his_, not mine, so wrong in so many ways, I shouldn't but she's so beautiful, we can talk about _anything_, I always feel so happy when we're together, she's so _perfect_, loves baseball and fishing and..

She kisses me.

Once. Soft and fleeting, it barely registers in my brain, but I feel it, feel _her_. Feel the woman she once was, the one she could have been; the one she is now, and it's all wrong, so wrong...

Yet it still feels so incredibly _right._

I gaze down at the sad smile on her face; then she turns away from me, before slipping back to her place in the prow of the boat. Doesn't look at me, almost as if she's mortified by what she just did, that simple, soft kiss.

"I'm so sorry Charlie. I just...can't. I asked him if I could, but..." shrugs her shoulders. "I would feel like I was cheating on him, and I couldn't hurt him like that."

"He hurt you, didn't he? With Bella?" _Jesus, Charlie where did that come from; where'd you pick up on that? _I think to myself, stunned at what I gleaned from her lips.

Doesn't say anything at first, I'm sure she's picking my brain, seeking what else I'm thinking about that regarding that whole deal, him and my daughter. Tilts that beautiful blond head of hers, covered by her Brewers cap, the one with the frayed bill she bought at Miller Park at the first home opener there. Hesitates, for the slightest of milliseconds.

"Yeah, he did. But I forgave him. What else could I do?"

"You could leave him, teach him a lesson."

Laughs at me, shaking her head, the right corner of her mouth drawn up in an ironic sneer.

"What lesson would that be, Charlie? 'Don't let your dick do the thinking for your brain?' _Please_, I've known him too long to underestimate him _or_ his motives. Plus I know him far better than anyone else does, dead _or_ alive." Sets her rod down as she turns to face me fully.

"Charlie, _believe me_, there is nothing more in this world that I would enjoy than laying down with you, feeling you on me, giving myself to you. But we both know that can _never happen_, no matter _how much_ we both desire it." Bites her lower lip, lowers her head and eyes as she does. "Charlie, can we go back to the launch now, please?"

I gun the Evinrude; it sputters to life, oil and smoke belching and enveloping us as it does. I turn us around, headed back to the launch. Neither of us says anything, sit there in silence, thinking. I can't hear her thoughts, so I never hear her pondering _I'm going home to a _boy_, when I could be with a _man_. Why me? Why not him?_

She's right, it can never happen, can never be.

_Why him? Why not me?_

##

**EDWARD POV**

_And I've always been the type to take care of mine __  
__I know just what I'm doing __  
__Don't you worry it's cool and everything is steady __  
__Puttin' you on my taxes already, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah __  
__I promise I won't let no bills get behind __  
__Cause every touch, every kiss and hug __  
__You 'bes believe it'll be on time __  
__Suga mama mama mama yeah yeah yeah_

Shake my head hearing Beyonce bouncing through the speakers as she pulls the Volvo into the garage, parking it next to Rosalie's BMW; why she loves that drum and bass crap, I'll never know, but it suits her, and if it makes her happy, who am I to deny her?

I can hear her pulling her tackle box out of the trunk, hanging up her barn jacket and Brewers cap on their hooks in her locker; the keys on their hook, next to Emmett's keys to the Jeep. Hear her sighing, then her gentle footsteps as she starts towards the house, head down, biting her lower lip.

_Uh oh_, that's not a good sign, that head-down-biting-her-lip stance. Never has been. Something's wrong, did he hurt her? He couldn't, she'd destroy him first, what am I thinking? _My angel..._

She's always taken such extraordinarily great care of me, no matter how much of a shit I am to her. I can't do anything about my intense mood swings; my brain has a malfunction that I can't control, this damn Bi-Polar card I've been dealt. I feel like I don't deserve her, I truly don't. I hate when I hurt her, know she has such love for me, always has, since we were kids. She's never let me down, _ever,_ despite what she might think. And she's the only person who can rip me a new one and get away with it; she knows how to keep me in line, keep me from exploding when the manic phases overwhelm me.

The only one who knows what I need when The Veil descends, shrouding me in it's numbing blackness.

Which is why I gave her one of the gifts she requested of me last week.

But from her shuffling pace, I'm guessing it didn't pan out how we'd thought it would.

#

Wrinkle my nose, seeking out his scent, trying to determine if she went through with it, what I gave her permission to do with Charlie: _Quid Pro Quo._

She's slipping off her Chuck Taylors by the back door; the pink ones I love to see her wear, they turn me on more than all the Choos and Manolos she owns, even if they're the only piece of clothing she has on, don't ask my why, but they do.

He's there on her, but it's so faint, I nearly miss it. I've been sitting in my black leather club chair in our room, waiting for her to walk through the door, aching to hold her, to tell her I'm not upset with her wish. Trying hard not to imagine what they might be doing to each other, with each other: Visions of fingers on her flesh, soft sighs and moans, leading up to more intimate acts; thoughts so vivid that I've worn grooves into the warm black leather arms from my fingers gripping them in anxiety and worry that this will lead to something greater between them, something I'll regret later.

Hoping this wasn't a mistake, like his daughter was, except that Isabella gave _me_ a daughter, the apple of my ageless eye.

The one person I love above all others in the world for all time.

My wife.

#

_Let me be, I wants to be, gots to be __  
__Your suga give mama some suga mama __  
__Suga ma-ma-mama __  
__I'm your suga mama, suga mama_

"Hello, Eddie. You weren't worrying, were you?" Standing in the doorway, she looks so forlorn, so sad; I haven't seen that look in years, since that time back in 1942, when...

"No, sweetheart. Not really." _You're a liar, Cullen, and you know it; you were nearly frantic about today, about them, together._ Wrinkle my nose again, trying to pick up the molecules of Charlie's scent I expected her to be drenched in.

But his scent is so _vague_, like it's not really there, it's as if I'm _willing_ it to be on her. Odd...

She looks down at the floor, starts that _pick pick pick_ tic on that imaginary spot on her jeans she has when she's nervous and fretful. Murmurs so softly, it's nearly indecipherable.

"I couldn't do it."

Wafts into the bathroom, swiftly stripping off her clothes like she's on fire and they're burning her alabaster flesh, right down to the bone.

Hear the showerheads as they blast on, feel the humidity and heat of the water as she turns the temperature up as high as it can go, almost as if she's trying to _scorch _his scent off her.

I don't say a thing, just wait for her; don't want to push her, she agonized over this request enough, I know how hard this was for her to ask of me.

But something's gone horribly wrong, I know it.

#

_Hey, hey __  
__Sit on mama lap __  
__Hey, hey __  
__Come sit on mama lap __  
__Hey __  
__Come sit on mama lap __  
__Hey, hey __  
__Come sit on mama lap __  
__Hey_

When I hear her moans and choked sighs, it sounds as if she's in mourning. Glide into the steaming bathroom, across the cream marble floor and start in surprise when I find her curled on the floor of the stainless steel cube, face pressed against the gleaming metal, her hands crossed against her breasts, legs coiled up to her arms; drawn up as tight as a fetus in the womb.

"I couldn't do it, Eddie, I couldn't fuck him. I wanted to, but I just _couldn't_." Chokes back another sob. "I just wanted to be human again, just for a few minutes, was that so _wrong_?" she manages to sputter out, her blue eyes seeking mine; seeking my forgiveness. _I just wanted to feel a heartbeat again, the rush of blood through veins and arteries, to feel a human's _warmth_ against my skin..._

Open the door to the shower and crouch down with her, enfolding her in my arms as the water continues to pound over us, drenching us in it's heat; wishing to God she could _cry_, that she could let all those decades of grief and that exquisite control she has float away from her, circle the drain, spin and whirl out to the ocean.

"No angel, it isn't. I'm so sorry baby." Bury her face in my neck, drawing her closer to me, to my silent heart, so full of love for her.

And it always will be, forever.

#

We stay curled together in our stainless steel tomb, entwined in our longing and grief, until the water turns as cold as the Quilleute River before the winter ice goes out.

When I finally raise her face to me, cupping her beauty in my palms and kiss her, I taste him, his scent: The smell of the earth as the winter thaw begins, of musk, of warm and worn plaid cotton flannel; taste his anguished longing for her there on her lips, silent and yearning:

_Why him, why not me?_

##

**A/N: Sometimes a lemon isn't really a lemon, except in the eye of the beholder.**

**Unfulfilled sexual tension is so much more erotic than any detailed retelling, at least IMHO.**

**Thanks to my girls on the UU board at Ravelry dot com. Kisses to all of you!**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing my work!**


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